Angel of Darkness
by kandisi
Summary: Peter finally kills Sylar, but that's not the surprising part. It's what he does next that is. Slash, written for prompt #15 at un love you on lj: This is my desperation in action.


**Title:** Angel of Darkness  
**Author:** sapphire17  
**Pairings/Characters:** Peter/Sylar, Angela Petrelli, a lot of others at the end.  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Peter finally kills Sylar, but that's not the surprising part. It's what he does next that is.  
**Warnings: **Implied character death, character death, language, violence like woah, implied drug-use, the fact that Peter does something else bad at the end.  
**Spoilers:** Up to 'The Fifth Stage'.  
**Prompt:** #15 at un_love_you, _This is my desperation in action.  
_**A/N:** All of the italics are from Peter's POV, and, yeah, I've done it again... Also, yes, the fic's title does come from the song... to a Nathan/Sylar vid I watched. Yeah... I came back here and fixed the typos, me thinks. Let me know if I missed anything else, and I'll correct it.

**Angel of Darkness**

Peter Petrelli sat in the back of the cab, sighing to himself, once again running a hand back through his messy bangs. They were getting fucking long, it was probably time to cut them again, but for some reason, everyone with the exception of Elle had always seemed to like him with longer hair.

Especially Nathan.

But Nathan Petrelli was gone now.

For good.

Peter began fidgeting nervously, unable to stay still, and his eyes were heavily dilated.

The cab driver noticed, and briefly, he wondered if Peter was possibly tripping on Angel Powder or Apple Jacks, which was another way of saying 'crack/cocaine'.

Peter noticed the funny and suspicious look the cab driver was giving him, and glared.

"I'm not drunk."

"...I didn't say that you were, sir..."

_Goddamned motherfucking son of a bitch._

Though, Peter was kind of out of it... While at work, he had lied down in one of the medical rooms while Emma had administered some IV Saline to him that had been mixed with Ativan. The Saline had been administered because Peter had been extremely dehydrated (though months had flown by, Peter had barely eaten, or drank anything with the exception of alcohol ever since the incident with 'Nathan' on the roof.), and the Ativan, as he had requested, had been to calm his nerves... Emma had eyed Peter suspiciously, but hadn't said anything to him about it.

_I'm going to become a benzodiazepine addict. Fuck, I need a fucking Xanax. Four mg, yeah. A barr._

"Long night, sir?" the cab driver inquired.

Yeah, seriously.

Peter had just gotten off the nightshift at work, and it had been hell. Peter usually enjoyed his work, but the call about how a mother had drowned her baby in the bathtub before some drunken husband had beaten his wife to death had been disturbing.

_Fuckers_.

Again, Peter couldn't save everyone.

And it wasn't until Nathan's departure that Peter had come to terms with this simple fact.

"Turn on the radio," Peter replied, not really up for conversation.

"Yes, sir.

The radio came on.

'_Brother like no other, brother like no other. You're always there for me. Brother like no other, brother like no other. You're always there for me. Brother like no other, brother like no other...'_

Peter frowned. "Turn it."

"Um, okay..." the cab driver replied, skipping along to the next radio station.

'_Cry, little sister... Come, come to your __**brother**__ , thou shall __**not die**__. Unchain me, sister, thou shall __**not fear**__. __**Love is with your **__**brother**__ , thou shall __**not kill**__...'_

"Goddamnit," Peter cursed, "Just turn the fucking thing off!"

The cab driver gulped, and nodded, turning the radio off. What the hell was with this guy? He was crazy.

And yes, Peter was crazy.

_I'm fucking insane._

Now more than ever.

"Well, we're here," the cab driver stated.

"Whatever," Peter responded, paying the driver and giving him a fucking lousy tip. Well. Fuck it, who gave a damn?

Peter clumsily got out of the cab, the effects of the drugs still wearing him down, as he made his way into the apartment complex. He took the elevator up to the designated floor, exited, and walked down the hallway, until he had reached his front door. He got out his keys, and opened the door...

...To see his mother Angela Petrelli bound to chair with her arms wired behind her back.

"Peter...!" Angela shouted, "P-Please, leave!"

"Ma...?" Peter stammered, stepping into the apartment as he shut the door behind him.

That was when Sylar revealed himself, laughing idly.

"Hello, Petrelli," Sylar greeted.

"Sylar..." Peter hissed between teeth, "What the fuck do you want?"

"I want you, Peter," Sylar replied, seemingly at ease, "I want to kill you, and Angela, and I am going to... Oh yes... I'm so glad Mrs. Petrelli was here when I got here, since that way, I can kill her in front of you. Or kill you in front of her. Hmm. Let me think about that..."

"You sick, sick fuck," Peter spat out.

That was when Sylar removed a gun from his pocket, and put it to Angela's head.

"See anything you like?" Sylar chuckled darkly, "With that ability you possess right now, the one I'm going to kill you to get because it's so delicious, I knew I wouldn't be able to use my abilities to kill you, Peter. So I brought the gun instead, though I suppose a knife or a pair of scissors would do just as well. Or a nail gun," Sylar mused.

"Get that fucking gun away from my mother," Peter hissed between teeth.

"No. Now, sit the fuck down, Petrelli, or I'll shoot her."

Peter hissed again, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Fuck, this was just like Thanksgiving.

Sylar set the gun on the table, and sat down in a chair on the end of the table.

"You two are the real sick fucks here," Sylar spat, eyeing Peter, and then Angela, "Especially you, Angela. Having that fucker Matt Parkman brainwash me into believe I'm Nathan Petrelli. Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore, because Nathan's gone now. He's not in me anymore. He died when he took that jump off of the roof."

"Fuck you," Peter spat, "I'm gonna kill you. Not only that, I'm going to torture you, until you're begging for me to kill you."

Sylar chuckled once more. "I picture it the other way around, actually."

Sylar looked at Angela. "You know, I always wished, in the past, that I really was your son. You gave me everything. A mother, abilities, brothers... And then, you took it all away from me, just like that, with a snap of your fingers, with the wind of your breath. But, not anymore, my sweet Angela dearest, not anymore. This is my desperation in action. I'm sending you straight back to Hell now, where you can be with your beloved Arthur, for all eternity..."

Peter knew it was time to turn the tables on this fucking madman.

_I can do this. He's distracted. I can do this. Win this. It's time, now..._

While Sylar was taunting Angela, Peter suddenly grasped the underside of the table and turned it on its side, slamming it into Sylar. Sylar fell down, the gun skidding across the floor. Peter acted with haste, quickly running across the dining room and into the kitchen where the gun had landed. Peter picked it up, turned, and aimed.

Sylar just stood there, before he held his hands up in the air.

"You won't do it, Peter," Sylar threatened, "Because deep down, you know Nathan is still alive in me."

Peter paused, his extended left-arm shaking.

"What are you waiting for, Peter, do it!" Angela shouted.

"But-But what if he's right, Ma?" Peter hesitantly inquired.

"Nathan's DEAD, that's NOT your brother anymore!" Angela urged, struggling wildly against her restraints, causing her arms to bleed all the more, "Nathan's NOT in him anymore! He's just playing you, Peter!"

"Are you so sure about that?" Sylar smirked, his hands still in the air, "Either way, it doesn't matter. Go ahead and kill me. I'm not afraid to die, it's you two that are."

"You are afraid to die," Peter replied, "You're scared shitless. That's the only reason you really took Claire's power, you wanted to live forever, to escape death. You are afraid to die."

Sylar frowned, taking a step forwards. "You're still not going to do it. As I said before when I killed your father, you're not a killer, Peter."

Peter said nothing for awhile, until, "Yes, I am."

_I can do this. I know it. This is it. This is the end. This is my desperation in action._

Peter fired three consecutive shots, one hitting Sylar in the chest, one in the stomach, and one in the arm. Sylar howled in pain, falling down to the floor.

Peter walked over to the table, picked up a steak knife, got on the floor at Sylar's side, and then, stabbed Sylar with the knife.

Over and over and over again.

"I fucking HATE YOU!" Peter yelled out, before he stabbed Sylar one final time in the center of his chest, the tip of the knife piercing Sylar's ribcage.

_Oh God, I'm a murderer. Oh God, I'm a torturer. Oh God, I am going to Hell. Oh God, no..._

Blood poured from Sylar's wounds, and leaked out of his mouth. He was coughing, coughing up blood. Peter yanked the knife out of Sylar, and threw it aside.

When Peter suddenly felt a tight grip on his hand.

Peter wallowed, gripping Sylar's hand back with his own, bloody hand.

Tightly.

"Hold me, Peter..." Sylar silently requested.

And Peter could see it.

Sylar was going to die and he knew it.

And he was scared.

_He loves me, doesn't he? I've known. I've always known. I'm going to cry. I'm going to __**die**__._

Peter scooped Sylar's upper body into his arms, and wrapped his arms around him. Sylar's arms rose up, and wrapped loosely back around Peter, since Sylar was losing blood so quickly that his strength was evading him.

Sylar was shaking in Peter's arms, and Peter tightened his grip on the man to stop it. Sylar pulled back, until he and Peter were face-to-face. For a moment, they just looked into one another's dark eyes, Sylar searching for sympathy, and Peter searching for any sign of Sylar's soul.

Their noises were touching, and their breathing was heavy.

"P-Peter..." Sylar whispered.

_He's so scared. I'm a monster, what have I done...? He's so, so scared. So very __**scared**__._

"Sssh, it's okay, dying isn't as bad as you think..." Peter murmured, "I've done it before..."

_Like that makes anything better, he's still going to die. I could do something about it, though. Take another ability from him, relinquish my nullifying power, __**let him heal**__._

_But... no, __**he has to die**__._

_I'm going to burn in Hell, just like him._

"But Peter, I-I... I don't want to die... Peter, please, let me heal..."

"No. I can't. I'm so sorry, but it's better this way."

"At least-At least I won't have... to... to die alone..."

_Let me hold you, comfort you, ease your suffering._

_Let me kiss you._

Peter leaned forwards, until his lips were pressed against Sylar's. Sylar kissed Peter back, opening his mouth before Peter's tongue plunged its way inside.

_I can taste it. The blood, the fear._

_The impending death._

_His lips are so sweet, so warm, and yet so very __**cold**__..._

_I love the taste of his blood._

"Peter, what the _hell_ are you doing?" Angela questioned, still bleeding and bound, "Are you INSANE? KILL HIM!"

Peter ignored his mother, continuing to deliver Sylar a rather intense and passionate kiss to the mouth.

"I love you, Peter Petrelli," Sylar whispered as Peter pulled away from him, sounding very weak. "Always have, always will, even in death."

_He loves me._

_He really __**loves**__ me._

_But I do not love him back._

_Do I...?_

"If you love me so much, then why were you going to kill me?"

"I knew that you would..." Sylar choked briefly on his own blood, before he mustered up the strength to continue, "Never... have me. You hate me, and I... get that. But... Peter. If I... couldn't have you... no one could. I loved you... enough to let you go."

Peter said nothing.

His eyes said it all.

_That's right, I wouldn't have had him, not after what he did to Nathan, to Claire, to ma._

_We would have been amazing together, though. Ying and Yang. And unstoppable team of specials._

_I'll never get the chance to make love to you, now, Gabriel Gray, and for that I am so sorry._

Sylar let out another gasp of pain, clenching his teeth as he bled in Peter's arms. His eyes glazed over in pain, until a single tear trailed its way down his face.

Just one.

_He's crying. I've never seen him cry before._

_He __**does**__ have a soul after all, I take back what I said on Thanksgiving._

_He looks like an __**angel**__._

Peter leaned forwards, turning Sylar's face in his hands as he licked the tear from Sylar's cheek, smearing his face with his own blood.

"P-Peter, please... Kill me. Make the pain... stop, oh God... make it _stop_. It hurts, Peter. It hurts _so_ fucking much."

"Al-Alright..." Peter whispered. "I'll make it stop. I'll end your suffering, Gabriel Gray."

Sylar forced a small smile, as a few more tears leaked forth from his eyes. "You... called me 'Gabriel'..."

_Yes I did, Gabriel. I'm just sorry that by killing Sylar, I had to kill you, too._

_I am an angel of mercy._

_An angel of death._

_And above all, an __**angel of darkness**__._

Peter picked up the knife, and shakily brought it to Sylar's throat. He knew the gun would've been quicker, more painless, but the part of him that still felt wrath wanted Sylar to suffer just as Nathan had.

"Tell me... tell me you love me, please... Before I die, tell-tell me you... love me."

"I-I can't, Gabriel. I can't. Not because I don't, but because I can't."

And that was good enough for Sylar.

Sylar closed his eyes after taking in once last vision of Peter Petrelli, waiting for death to claim him.

"Goodbye, Gabriel Gray... Rest in Hell, and I'll join you there soon enough."

And with that said, Peter quickly and viciously slashed Sylar's throat, as blood poured from the ferocious cut

Peter leaned down over Sylar, pressing their chests together as he sought-out Sylar's lips for a final time. Peter cupped Sylar's face with one hand, his other hand running back through Sylar's dark, longer hair.

Peter kissed Sylar as Sylar writhed on the floor, choking, spasming, shaking. Sylar gripped onto Peter's shirt, until his knuckles were white, Peter continuing to kiss him the whole time.

"Don't focus on the pain, and don't be afraid, I'm here, I'm here for you, Gabriel," Peter whispered against Sylar's lips, "Just—feel this, only concentrate on the feel of my lips, on the feel of me."

Peter kissed Sylar still more, as Sylar relaxed ever so slightly. Sylar wanted to speak, but he couldn't, the blood filling the inside and outside of his throat preventing this action.

Peter continued to kiss Sylar as Sylar slipped away, his tongue in Sylar's gaping, open mouth. Eventually, Sylar's grip on Peter's shirt loosened, and his arms felt limply down to the floor.

Peter was now kissing a scarlet corpse.

A beautiful, scarlet corpse.

_He's dead... Oh God, he's __**dead**__._

_I should have told him I loved him back._

_And now he'll never know._

_Not unless I... unless I..._

"Peter..." Angela whispered, not understanding what the fuck Peter was doing, "Stop... He's-He's dead, Peter. Sylar is dead."

But Peter ignored his mother, kissing Sylar still, until his lips were sore and covered with Sylar's still-warm, crimson blood.

Peter finally, finally pulled away, and stood, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve, streaking it across his face. Peter was covered in blood, though, just like Sylar's limp body was.

Peter walked into the kitchen, and pulled out a drawer, where he retrieved a pair of sharp scissors. Peter returned to the small dining table, got behind Angela, and cut her arms free of the binding wire.

"Thank you, Peter..." Angela replied. "Thank God he's finally dead. You did it Peter, you did it again. You saved the world again, Peter. I hope Sylar burns in Hell."

"He will, but... so will I... For what I have done, for what I will do..."

_I'll see you soon enough, Gabriel, soon enough..._

"I'll send Noah and Rene over to clean up this mess," Angela rest-assured.

Peter said nothing, picking the gun off the table and walking into the bathroom, where he shut the door into place behind him.

He stared into the mirror, at his bloody reflection, seeing nothing.

Nothing in the reflection.

Peter Petrelli was already dead.

And no one.

No one was there.

This was it.

This was the end.

_I'll burn in Hell for this, with you, Gabriel Gray. I know you're in Heaven, Nathan, and I now know I will never see you again. I'm spending eternity with the man who killed you instead..._

_This is my desperation in action._

It wasn't long before Angela heard a gunshot.

She screamed.

"PETER...!"

***

"Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope, of the resurrection into eternal life, may Peter Petrelli rest forever in the kingdom of the Lord."

Wearing all black, under the umbrella as the sky poured rain from Heaven above, Angela Petrelli stood before Peter Petrelli's grave, sheding no tears. No, no she wouldn't. She had shed all the tears she was going to shed over his death already.

Why Peter had chosen to take his own life Angela still didn't know. Was it Nathan? Was it Sylar? Or was it just himself? All of the above?

What it came down to was that Peter couldn't live with being a killer, he couldn't live without Nathan, and he couldn't even life without Sylar.

Sylar had loved Peter, and Angela had a feeling that Peter had loved Sylar.

Angela wondered idly if they were at peace with themselves in Hell together, both of them being ripped apart endlessly for all eternity, damned by God to an endless, everlasting suffering that was a fate worse than death, worse than purgatory.

And yet...

Maybe they were finally at peace, because they were together at last in a world where they finally wouldn't be judged, where they could finally be together, forever.

Peter Petrelli. Time of death: 8:27 a.m., March 5th, 2010.

Gabriel Gray. Time of death: 8:19 a.m., March 5th, 2010.

Everyone had come to Peter's funeral, though for Peter's sake, Angela had told everyone that Sylar had killed him, getting one final shot at Peter after Peter had ruthlessly shot him and stabbed him and slit his throat. Angela didn't want anyone to know the truth, that Peter had killed himself, that Peter had gone to Hell to spend an eternity with Sylar and Arthur Petrelli and Adam Monroe of all people.

Claire Bennet was there. And Noah Bennet. Sandra Bennet. Doug. Mohinder Suresh, Hiro Nakamura, Ando Masahashi, Kimiko Nakamura, Matt Parkman, Tracy Strauss, Lauren, Gretchen, Charlie Andrews, Millie, Micah Sanders. Even Claude Rains had magically appeared for the event, along with several people from the Sullivan Bros. Carnival; Samuel Sullivan, Lydia, Edgar, Becky, and Eric Doyle, even.

Noah was the only one who knew the truth, however. He had put two-and-two together. Angela still bore the red marks on her arms from the wire Sylar had put there, and knew there was no way Angela could have freed herself from their binding all on her own. If Sylar had killed Peter beforehand, then how had Angela freed herself...?

Still, Noah said nothing, not to Angela, and especially not to Claire.

Music played, and everyone got in line to lay a single white rose on Peter's fresh grave a piece, as the coffin was lowered into the cold, dead ground.

Nathan's proper funeral was held the next day, and once again, everyone showed up.

The day after, Gabriel Gray's funeral was held.

Angela Petrelli was the only one who came.

Angela returned to the cemetery one week later, where Arthur, Nathan, Peter, and Sylar had all been buried next to one another (which puzzled everyone, considering no one understood how there was any way in Hell that Angela would want that son of a bitch buried next to her real family), but Angela had done it nevertheless, for Peter.

Angela laid flowers on all of their graves, noticing that somebody had carved "Rest in Hell" into Gabriel's tombstone, over the epitaph. Probably Claire or Mohinder had done that, but Angela saw it as rude to disrespect the dead like that. She would have the headstone replaced soon.

It was snowing now, as Angela paid her respects to her husband and two sons, and to Gabriel Gray, before the she turned, and left the cemetery.

In Heaven above, Nathan wept.

***

**A/N:** Yeah... yet ANOTHER **MAJOR** WTF from me. And very sad ending, I know... The sad part is that since I've heard that season 4 probably WILL be the last season of Heroes, I have a feeling that Peter will kill Sylar, even though someone on lj told me they read somewhere that Hiro was going to kill him by beheading Sylar. *shrugs* Who knows? I'd... rather Peter kill Sylar than Hiro, though, just for the angst. All-in-all, though, I would rather Sylar not die at all, of course. :P

Please comment/review and tell me what you think, if you don't wanna flame me. *runs off and hides* Again, I DELETE anonymous flames and I BLOCK logged-in reviewers who flame. Yeah, I've had to do it before. I don't understand why anti-slashers click on a slash fic when the summary blatantly says "SLASH".

See you all around!


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